A Life Without Love
by balsdjajdksaj
Summary: The consequences of abandonment, isolation and social removement are taking their toll on Bella Swan. A love so irreplaceable never could find a substitute, but Bella, with not even Jacob to pick her up, turns to other ways to feel again.
1. Chapter 1

I stood, next to the mirror, in parallel position, face forward. My bouncy curls tied back, repressed in a plain black hair band. Glancing at the mirror, I perfected my posture. Back straight. I looked from my feet, tied in little pearly pink slippers, the straps crossing one and another, to the wooden bar, which my hand rested upon daintily.

Catching my sad eyes in the mirror, and trying not to look anywhere else. I didn't want to blush at the sight of my body in the tight, terrible tight, leotard.

The introduction started. I drummed my pale fingers on the deep mahogany wood-

-and started.

I was alive again. I did a pirouette. Inhaled. The music is where I then put my trust, now that he's gone. I block thoughts of him from my mind and concentrate on gliding and skipping along the room. A composed conundrum, I sashayed along the mahogany studio floor, my heart soaring. Realization that the music has stopped reached my body before my mind and before I know it, the girls, who I had barely noticed during my piece, applauded. Admiration surged and my head span. Dumbstruck, I nodded and thanked my classmates for their praise.

"Goodness Bella." The stern voice of my instructor cut through the heavy approval of my friends, and my head jerked to meet hers, our eyes in contact. "I'm sure you lie when you say you've never danced before. You are my little mystery."

I cringe inside at the word 'little'. "I… scare myself too. I used to be a clutz."

I remembered how Angela had begged me to join her ballet group, moaning 'You need to take your mind off things.' I had noticed Jess' harsh glare, looking me up and down, which had settled it. 'Alright', I said, as I gave in to Angela's pleading.

Today, she joined the group of gaggling girls.

"I surprise myself; really, I never thought I had it in me."

"Well that was surely a most ridiculous thought. You'd best watch yourself, or you might begin to dance better than your own teacher! Is there anything you'd like to do further with dancing? You'd certainly be excellent..."

I heard the word 'further' and rejected, no, expelled the thought off my mind. To let Ann down gently I proclaimed "For just now, I'm thinking about the present. And worrying about our show!"

"You have nothing, absolutely nothing to worry about. You could walk onto that stage right now and still amaze the crowd. Even in that leotard and... _Flimsy_" she spoke with disdains and paused, for a half second, "_slippers._ You'll be on to point very soon. You have nothing to worry about concerning the show however."

"Well, thanks Ann. I'd best be going."

"Of course, and it really was breathtaking to see you dance today. How queer you never knew you could before." She laughed softly to herself. "Best get home, it's getting dark."

I agreed with Ann; it was getting dark outside, but I still asked if she wanted help shutting up for the night, which she declined, as usual. When I turned to leave, I noticed all the girls had filtered out the dingy little studio, meaning I'd have to face them in the changing rooms.

"Hey Bella!" the voice I turned to search for called. Mumbling a heavy "Yes" in reply, the small, lithe girl with champagne hair burst into peals of laughter, her body almost convulsing with hilariosity.

I looked away, face stung and embarrassed. Although I knew what the joke was- definitely me- in this leotard. My whole, ugly body was on display to her, hanging out of the tight elastic confinement. Quickly, I gathered my clothes and headed for the toilets, to change alone as I did every week. No one was allowed to see me... Getting changed.

Sighing, I slid into my soft sweater dress, replacing unflatteringly white tights with grey leggings. Trimmed with a little lace, all in a dark grey, which matched the lighter shade my jumper dress was, although that was marled. Since… Since he had gone, I wore greys. I wasn't in mourning, but colour felt wrong, a violation, and I didn't want to attract any extra attention. Pulling on a pair of beaten steel coloured pumps, I half smiled. At least, despite the grey hues, I dressed decently now.

See? I could improve. Almost esteeming myself, I saw how much I already had.

Taking a step forward, I plunged into the room of mocking girls and exited the studios quickly.

The walk home was long, but not arduous. The only feeling my heart had left to hold was exertion, replacing the love it used to burst with. I tried to imagine it right then. Shrivelled and broken.

Charlie, as I noticed when I walked home, was sitting watching television as always. Sport. Ironically, he never did much sport himself. I wondered why he wasn't at Billy Blacks house; he'd spent more and more time over there, never mentioning why. I didn't need him to tell me however; I knew the air between us was uncomfortable, forced, and that tension threatened to rise and fully break our relationship at any given opportunity.

"Hey Bella. Nice time at ballet?"

"Mm, it was. Prep for the show is going very well." I wore a false smile, suddenly feeling very weary. "How is the football?"

"It's ok thanks. Have you... Do you, err, want me to cook some dinner?" He replied nervously. I wondered where that anxious tone originated.

"Oh, I had something on the way back from ballet. I'd be happy to make you some, though, Dad." I suddenly wished he was at Billy Blacks house, allowing me to collapse onto the sofa and psyche myself to tread the stairs.

"I'll call a pizza." He replied with exasperation, turning back to his television.

I crept up the stairs, cringing at what I knew was next on the agenda. In the comfort of my own room I was truly alone. Alone, and able to cry, my shaking sobs rasping and heaving out of my chest. I sat next to my bed, curl myself into a ball, whimpering noiselessly.

Hours later, I reclaim my control. I wiped off my tears, and picked up my towel, scrambling to the bathroom.

Locked in. I thrust my back stealthily against the inside of the door, and although I was again unaccompanied, I threw my eyes around the room suspiciously. It was, of course, deserted.

I peeled my clothes off, and couldn't face the mirror. Naked, and turning the shower on, I clenched tight in my ball of sobbing Bella again, not bothering to wait until the icy chill of the water faded to peaceful warmth, and not caring when it turned to scorching heat. Feeling no need to suppress my tears now, as Charlie would not hear me over the reverberation of the searing droplets.

I cried for Edward. My Edward. Not the one who decided... No. Correcting myself, I came to the conclusion he had realized who the real monster was, and ran from her. The Edward who I had loved, the one I believed to love me truly back.

The tiny burning droplets, which hurt with every bead, reminded me of my former stupidity. Naivety.

I had put myself in that position.

It was likely he would go. I had made my bed, and I was lying in it.

I rose to the mirror. And faced it.

The lines marred and vision circled; the showers heat spoilied my vision of the damaged girl looking toward me. A tear trickled down my face as I forced myself to look at all my mistakes. To feel them, to tumble them around in my hands.

How could I have ever been stupid enough to believe, even for a split-second, that he could ever love _that._

Lying on my bed, I listened with my eyes shut. I had changed into pyjamas that hung comfortably loose upon me and my newly dried hair fanned around my face. I lay there, listening to signs of life downstairs whilst up in my own nothingness, I crossed my arms, pretending and wishing I were dead. Charlie stirred, turned off the television, and headed up the stairs, and when he reached the top he knocked upon my door.

"Bella?" Uneasily, he called out the name that no longer held any meaning to me.

"Mm-hmm?" My reply was as falsely lethargic as my smile was forged. Sleep, like another commonly perceived as a necessity to human life, did not come easily anymore. The ability to tire and to feel hungry had dissipated as my love had disappeared from me.

A small, defeated voice replied, "Goodnight." It was as if he wanted, needed, to say

something else.

"'Night Dad."

I listened to the sounds of him returning to his room, shuffling in his drawers, and retreating to bed, where he almost instantly fell into slumber. We- no, Edwad and I, used to laugh at how deeply he slept.

I crept down the stairs, and met the door which opened to another flight. The musky smell filled my nostrils as I inhaled dust. Wondering, how many dust particles was I inhaling? Was that bad? What could I say about that?

I flicked a light switch, and began the journey down to the attic with caution. The stairs were exceptionally creepy, and perhaps hazardous; the lighting cast huge shadows which meant half the room, if not more, was submerged in shadows.

I felt the darkness swallow me, feet up, as I descended the stairs. The air was welcomingly cool, and as I pressed play on the small tape player, found in one of the dusty boxes piled in the attic, I breathed in the sweet, musky smell of the dusty air deeply. It was almost comforting. I heard my introduction, and without a warm-up, my ballet routine pursued.

With every sharp intake of breath, my capillaries filled with oxygen and my body felt full of life again. I felt the rhythm of the tape running through every limb to the extremities of my body; the tips of my fingers and toes, my neck elongating gracefully. My little escape, no matter how short-lived. Addictive.

I imagined what I looked like at that point. A girl, barefoot, wearing hideously baggy sweat pants and a swimathon tee-shirt, several times too big, dancing to a classical tune madly, as if it were what she survived upon, her eyes red and sad.

Again, the end of the song caught me with surprise. I danced a few steps more, although not without falter, and let the weak giddiness consume me.

Floating across the room, as I heard the music restart, I felt obliged.

It was a total of four times that I practiced my lengthy routine before I collapsed breathlessly. A faint smile traced my lips, and I held my hand on my flailing heart. It used to beat so powerfully for one person and one person alone. Now it fluttered gracefully, as gracefully as I danced, except I was alone. There was no super human to hear my heartbeat.

The emptiness that tore me apart every day overcame me. There was no escape from its dark enfoldment, the replacement of a once tender embrace, and I sunk back into it. Over and over again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

As my eyes lifted to my ceiling, I saw it was dark, as it always was when I woke. I wiggled my fingers and toes, the sensation of blood running through them enough to satisfy my early morning awakening, in the dark. I lifted my legs up slightly, ignoring the cry of over-worked muscles. I peeled the sticky sheets from my bed; my dreams, although I could not remember them, always caused me a great deal of anxiety. Sitting on the side of my bed, I established that the alarm clock on my bedside table read 4 AM. I pondered as to why I still set my alarm for seven, as it felt like decades since I had last needed it to wake me up. The oddity of the situation caused a small, choked giggle to wing its way out of the oppression that my body harboured and escaped through my mouth, unsure of itself.

The sound of my own laughter shocked me. It had been months since I'd last laughed, months since needed that alarm bell to wake me up, months since I had last seen him. Two months. It was December the 16th.

Exactly two months.

I began to feel very, very nauseated with myself. I ran to the bathroom frantically, clutching my hand to my mouth, the other resting upon my stomach. I reached the toilet just in time to crouch on my knees and retch, burning, hot acid filling my mouth and increasing my dizziness. An acidic, almost metallic taste filled my mouth and I literally felt my teeth grow a haze of furriness, as if I had just bitten into extremely tart fruit. I spat into the toilet bowl and wiped my mouth with tissue.

My knees weak, I attempted to reach the sink, wishing to swill the terrible taste out of my mouth. The room span around and my knees buckled when they felt my weight upon them instantaneously. Whilst my head spun, I could have sworn I saw a figure in the area I had previously locked shut. I fell to the floor.

Charlie's voice echoed across the toilet floor, stirring me from my unpredicted sleep. I opened my eyes and the room appeared hazy; my head still span.

"Bella! Bella? Is everything ok in there?" His concerned voice called from the other side of the bathroom door, the one I barely remembered bolting. I tried to focus upon creating a response, but all I managed was a muffled groan, that he no doubt would not be able to hear.

Heaving my heavy, tired body weight onto the palms of my hands, spread out behind me, I uttered "I'm fine, dad." I lied through my teeth. Initiative reigned, and I added to the falsehood, although how, through my foggy thoughs, I wasn't sure. "I was just plucking my eyebrows."

I wasn't sure how convinced he was, and when he replied "Why do you sound so.. I don't know, Bella, why do you sound so hurt?" there was sheer apprehension in his voice. I knew I had to convince him I was fine, so I gathered the strength in my lungs to shout something along the lines that he wouldn't "know how painful" I found plucking my eyebrows. He seemed at least satisfied enough with that answer to skulk down the corridor, and I wondered how long I had been lying there for.

The acrid taste still assaulting my teeth, tongue, and gums, I carefully raised myself into a crouching position. Once I had steadied myself, I reached for the basin and hauled myself up. I was ok. I was standing.

I brushed my teeth feverishly, feeling an urge to go back to bed and collapse lap over me in waves. There was no way I could face school feeling like this- however, how would I tell Charlie? Heck, why was I even in this state?

Glancing around the room, my eyes rested upon the toilet bowl and I revisited flashbacks of what happened just hours ago. The choked laugh, second month, retching, the dark figure, all concluded in silence and darkness. I gasped. I had been two months without Edward. I didn't know how this could be possible. To preoccupied to think about the other events, I blocked out all feelings, and turned into numb, forced Bella. I would go to school today; of course I would. It was my blood sugar which had let me collapse and not my mentality. Life should have gone on as normal, and I had to carry on as if it was.

After meticulously washing my face, I scrubbed my teeth for a second time and lurched out the bathroom door, and plunged into my bedroom. I ignored the dizziness and proceeded to open and rip clothes out of my wardrobe; feeling the cottons and denims and plaid mould into my hands for split seconds until I tossed them to the floor. I sank down into the mess, hands in my hair, suppressing sobs, shaking violently. I opened my eyes to the grey-hued mess.

Looking from the ruins of my perfectly piled clothing to the mirror, I stared hard at myself, and rose to my feet, shakily. A monster stared back at me. I pulled my arms up to my side and watched the bingo wings fall, flapping, I clenched them hard with gritted teeth. I twitched my eyes to my stomach and pulled up my shirt. It was flatter, although the negative voices in my head stated 'flatter' was merely what an empty stomach looked like; not a toned, slim one. Yet, I was satisfied with my improvement, I settled back down to the mess of the clothes scattered in messy piles amongst my room. I picked up underwear, an oversized, dark grey tunic, and a cropped cardigan, in black. Pulling on the same leggings as the style I wore the day before, I brushed my hair and headed down the stairs. Every step increased my dizziness, so I treaded with caution.

I headed for the kitchen, and flicked the kettles switch.

Not before long, I saw the water dancing violently; hitting against the metal sides of the kettle before lapping back and bouncing off its partner wave. Vast bubbles of air rose in-between the turbid, iron strong water, emerging upwards invisibly, concealed by the heat of the kettle. Once escaped from the liquids restraint, the air travelled through the kettle invisibly, it terminated when it met the spout. Free. Upon meeting the cold air, it transformed into somersaulting white waves, liberated to twist translucently through the air. I suddenly had an urge to dance, to liberate _myself _from the mental clutches that tortured and imprisoned my mind. The air was lucky. It was free to curve and roll around the windows, released to outside. Outside, where green forests laid on tumbling hills, and beautiful meadows which held painful memories. Memories of a shimmering, perfect vampire.

Breathtaking meadows and vampires. I thought to myself, whilst sipping my coffee, that perhaps I would make a pilgrimage to Edward's meadow. To properly say goodbye.

I enjoyed watching the steam escaping the confides of the cup. The hot coffee warmed my uncharacteristically cold hands, its bitter and strong flavour warming my insides. The searing heat and taste brought me back to earth; no longer feeling faint, I finished the cup and bounced up the stairs.

Of course, physically I was shaking, but as I picked up my school bag daintily and made my leave of the house, the emptiness inside was filled with unusual optimism.

I clamoured out of the truck, struggling to put on the mental mask I enforced every school day. It was as if Edwards leave had denatured my whole being; I was now a person with a duality of nature. Before, naivety had ensured I tell the truth and be honest. When he came out with the truth about not loving me, it was as if I lived a constant lie; the falsely cheery front I worse for Charlie and my school friends, and the Bella who spent her every evening breaking down.

I did not greet Angela, even though I saw her before she said, "Morning Bella." Her pretty face beamed at me, yet I couldn't help but wonder if her eyes held the slightest taint of pity. She and Ben had been together in a sturdy relationship for a long time, and their relationship showed no signs of anything but love.

"Hi Angela." I responded chirpily, matching her tainted smile with a false one. "Are you having a good morning?"

"Mm, it's been ok as far as mornings go, I guess." She cast an eye to the melancholy clouds that hanged above us.

"Looks like it's definitely going to rain." I shrugged my shoulders lightly and rolled my eyes. We both began walking to the common room.

"Yep. That's one thing that's always certain in Forks." She paused. "Um, Bella?"

"Mm hm?"

"Are you busy on Saturday?"

"Not…" I felt sick. A night out with the girls would be tortuous. It felt like getting dressed in tiny clothes and slap, to spend the night drinking or gossiping or whatever the plans were to ruin my Saturday would have been tortuous. It was no wonder when I spoke, my voice was rough as sandpaper. I was lucky I didn't choke. "No, not really."

"Mike Newton is having a huge party. It's going to be really great fun, Bella- I'd love it if you could come."

"I'll ask Charlie."

"Bella, I need you to say yes." Angelas eyes brimmed with anxiety as she pleaded me. "For me. Please. Just for my peace of mind." Upon that last comment, the air was pressed sharply out of my lungs. What was she implying?

An awkward silence passed between us, and all I could manage to break the ice was a small "Huh?".

"I'm worried about you. We all are. You may act happy, but you barely talk to us anymore. We miss you. There are bags under your eyes, and your looking so frail.. Come out with us," I read the embarrassment at her outburst through he eyes, "have a good time. It will take your mind off things."

What a mess. "Oh. I promise things aren't like that! I'm fine. Really, I'm great. I'd.." The words stuck in my throught like artery-clogging chocolate cake "I would love to come. Thanks for the invite."

A wave of relief visibly hit Angela, and she took a deep, happy breath and smiled. A true smile, so loyal and full of platonic love that it lifted my spirits up, too. Not exceedingly high, it had to be said, but I felt strangely contented. Before I knew it, the corners of my lips lifted upwards and curled, and I smiled for the first time in… Two months. My face fell.

I took deep, sharp breaths in and out, in an attempt to calm myself. There was time enough for me to break down later, in the meadow.

Lessons flew by, and I felt almost untouched completely by what my professors were teaching. I sat through the lessons, gazing out of windows and allowing the emptiness to fill me. Break was spent in the library; I reached for the first four books I touched and sat own, opening the cover of the first, and started at the page absent-mindedly. The syntax swirled and danced through my hazy eyes. I tied not to bring tears to them as Wuthering Heights consumed my thoughts; my books, now embossed upon my memory as Edward's novel. A distant Bella and Edward, false, immature, and romantic.

I rose from my seat when I heard the bell ring for lesson three.

Biology.

It was the one class I singularly dreaded the most. I shuffled into the classroom, head down, trying not to see or think anything incase it tempted something human inside of me to reveal itself. If it did, all the emotions I packed into boxes during the day would tumble down, crashing to the floor, broken open for a pre-viewing which all of my classmates would witness.

I heard Mike Newton shout "Hey Bella! Heard you were coming…" distantly, through the roaring silence in my mind. Through the barriers that stopped me from acknowledging or interacting with anyone. The best I could do was a controlled nod, my eyes not moving to reach his.

As soon as I had walked into that lesson, I had willed it to be finished.

The seat next to me had remained empty ever since Edward had left it. No one had sat there. Irreplaceable.

I forced myself not to think of him, pushing my eyes to rest upon my thighs. A double-effect meant that the vast weight of them pushed them own, where they splayed out on my lab stool. I reached down, feeling the gluttonous mass- one hand after another, grabbing and fondling and pressing. I squished them into cages of fingers, grabbing fistfuls of flesh. It had to go.

Closing my eyes to block out other thought, I internalized, imitating my actions seven weeks ago. I had spent a week enduring my pain, feeling it enter and ravish every cell of my body. A week spent lying in an almost catatonic state; body rigid and unmoving, eyes clenched shut. It was an excuse.

Whilst I had lain there, I thought deeply, to conclude that when he had told me that he had fallen out of love with me, he had lied. As realization hit me like a fist, my insides fell apart. No one would ever love me, and Edward, being the most perfect 'one' of them all, was certainly no exception. He had never stopped loving me, because ends imply a beginning coming to a close. He had never loved me.

A single tear slid down my cheek. I curse; embarrassed and annoyed, and tilted my head down, shunning my emotions from the empty seats view.


End file.
